


Roses

by motoroilfreeway



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motoroilfreeway/pseuds/motoroilfreeway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsuna comes into Hibari's house for a drink. One-sided 1827. 2795. Universe Altered (sort of)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

He stared at the brunet beside him.

The brunet, two years younger than him, came into his house that night, bringing something to drink, and alcoholic beverage, at that.

Although he does not tolerate underage drinking, he let it slide, just this once if it wasn't for the brunet's broken look. Despite his smile, he can read him like an open book, and the brunet is feeling dejected. He must've went to his place for comfort, brought a drink to find a reason for his intrusion, in which he was wondering, why a wine, an alcoholic drink, for all things? Most adolescents his age would usually bring a stack of DVDs to watch, or some video games. He also expected that the other would've brought sake instead, since that was what he saw his father drink once before.

He may dislike alcohol, but that does not mean his tolerance is low. He is not that stupid either to not to know that most people drink to forget their loneliness, though he never thought the brunet to be a drinker, a heavy one at that. His tolerance, despite his age, is quite that of an adult who knew how to hold his liquor well; he had more than ten shots, and he still seemed sober enough to start a normal, friendly conversation fluently.

The conversation was quite humorous, for an outsider's point of view, although everything the brunet says just went pass his ear out to the other as he bore into the other's dull eyes. It was unnerving, those eyes. He have no idea how he used to like them, those eyes, maybe because it has the most pleasant shade of brown, amber, and caramel. There is always this strange tint in it, a soft tinge of orange, making it glow in the light, and how it hardens with resolution every time he was doing something virtuous, heck, everything this boy does is virtuous, in his own point of view, anyway.

And right now, all those qualities he used to see and adore are now gone in his eyes, they were nothing but a dull shade of color he cannot describe, it was like staring into an abyss, with no chance survival and hope, and the thought makes him sick to his stomach, something squeezing painfully into his chest, makes his breath slightly hitch.

Of course he knew the brunet's strength, it may still be half-baked for now, but he knows, that in the near future, he would be someone big, and maybe even lead a large group of people, and that would be his strength, and it would the kind of strength that has no limits, and grows no bounds, that even he, cannot catch up on.

And now, there is this something, something so small, something so trivial, although it may have been priceless for the other, and it was suddenly lost, it seems irreplaceable and sentimental that caused this boy to feel so much pain that it even shows on his face, no matter how hard he tried to smile, and no matter how loud he laugh, because the sounds he was supposed to make should sound like a delightful strings of melodies, not this horrid sound that grates his eardrums to irritation. And this is making him the more irate.

His stare became calculating, as if unearthing a hidden key to an unlockable lock, and with a monotonous voice, he opened his mouth and, "Something is wrong with you." he stated, not asked, because it was a fact, he does not need the other's opinion to either deject or approve. He knows something is wrong and the other won't spill it unless he tells him, so he told him in a way that he knows.

The other stopped talking, his eyes-those eyes, which are now so empty, so dull and it grates on his nerves, and just by looking at it, it makes him want to rip it out of those sockets and repeatedly stomp at them on the floor, until those pupils are gone-bore into his, then blinked, once, twice, thrice, and paused. His mouth was left hanging slightly open, and then closed, and opened again, as if looking for words, and then closed.

"Nothing," he blurted out, in that squeaky voice of his, his tone laced with false humor and feigned innocence, as if he does not know what exactly was he talking about.

The word itself snapped his patience into half, enough to grasp the other, pull him close to his face, their foreheads almost touching, puffs of breath ghosting on each other's faces. The other tried pulling away, and he burrowed his nails deep into the other's wrist, creating crescent shaped marks and making the younger boy slightly wince, if not hiss, his eyes slightly closing, and those dull, dull, ugly orbs started to regain back its usual color that he liked, to portray the discomfort and the pain he is currently in. He does not care, be it for pain or pleasure, as long as the usual color is back, as long as it no longer would make him irate and irrational, as long as he managed to divert his attention, even just for a moment, as the shade of brown, amber, and caramel were once again eaten by the abyss, and the boy's physical struggles started to dissipate, and then he bowed his head low, his brown locks covered his eyes, though their faces are still as close. He frowned.

Soon, the body grew limp and fell from his hold. Then it pushed him away, catching him surprisingly off guard ever since his nineteen years of existence.

The brunette grabbed a neglected shot glass, not bothering which is his, poured more and resumed to his drinking as if nothing happened.

"Tsunayoshi," He grounded out.

Keeping still for more than a minute, he took the other glass, unsure if it was even his to begin with, though since Tsunayoshi is already using the other one and he obviously have no other choice, he took the bottle and poured some for himself, and drank. He needs to be patient if the brunet doesn't want to talk to him about what is bothering him at the moment. Yet.

The brunet never initiated another conversation ever since and he never bothered from the start. The room is filled with clinks and clacks from the bottle and their glasses, the two remained silent as they drank their glasses empty.

The bottle is almost empty and Tsunayoshi's actions are still that of a sober man. The alcohol circulated his system as if it was water. The brunet bested his father atl east when it comes to holding their liqiour, he silently accredited him for that, given how much he hated his father.

As for him though, his vision is already blurry, and he feels quite light-headed. He's trying to limit his movements as much as he can, since he can feel his body sway every now and then. He's grabbing onto his table for support, he's still holding his shot glass, though he's resting it on the table, in case he accidentally drops it.

He stares at the person next to him with an envious expression as Tsunayoshi is currently pouring the last drops of wine into his glass. He hates losing to anything, alcohol tolerance included.

His eyes remained fixated on the other, as the brunet started emptying the glass with a shot, this time, with a bored expression. He raised his free hand to rest his elbows onto the table, and raised his glass; he gave it a slow sip as he continued on his voyeur.

As Tsunayoshi finished his final drink, which is suspiciously arousing, the brunet slammed his glass onto the table, staring into the glass for few good seconds before turning his gaze on him with a stern expression. It seemed that the drink never did affect him, based on how he can move properly as opposed to his condition.

Tsunayoshi's eyebrows crossed as he scrunched his face, and turned away, bowing his head low on the table, turning his empty glass clockwise and back. He inhaled sharply, and spoke, "Kyoko-chan broke up with me." he sounded miserable, quite confused, even as if he doesn't understand the reason behind the break-up.

He snorted. The brunet paid no mind to his reaction, because that is just how he is. If he felt sympathy over such topic, Tsunayoshi would've punched him in the face instead, muttering along the lines of "You are not Hibari-san."

Hibari stood up and went to his room. The other, felt his shuffling, turned his head towards his direction, and followed him through his eyes silently in confusion.

He went to his night stand, took the lone bright red rose lying innocently above it with swift careful care and went back to his living room, the rose dangling in his hold. He was thankful the wobbly feeling is now gone, though he still feel light-headed.

He sat back, stared at the brunet who is staring at him back with a confused expression. He pointed the bud close to his face.

"Happy Valentine's Day." He announced monotonously albeit groggily due to the alcohol, as if mocking the other.

Sasagawa Kyoko broke up with Sawada Tsunayoshi on Valentine's Day, and it obviously hurt a lot more than it should because of the occasion, not to mention it was their anniversary, of all days she could've just told him. The rose came as a heavy reminder of the brunet's day, without his knowing.

Tsunayoshi got mad, shoved the flower away, falling from Hibari's weak grasp and falls to the ground, slightly crushed, some of its petals came off. The brunet's eyes stung with tears.

"I know you don't care about what I'm telling you, but this is not funny! You went too far!" He sobbed, looking at him forlornly.

"Too far!" He sobbed loudly, as he bowed his head onto the table. Hibari stared passively.

"A bright red rose is for love. That is what I want to give you, and Sasagawa does not deserve yours."

The brunet turned his head towards him, baffled.

"What?"

"I said I love you and Sasagawa does not deserve you in the first place." He tried to be specific this time, mistaking the brunet's frustration for confusion. The alcohol surprisingly is a good remedy to get rid of his insecurities, he never thought he can actually tell the brunet about what he really thinks, even his unspoken of hatred for the woman is showing.

The bluntness of that statement shocked the brunet, making him temporarily forget about his broken heart. It took him a moment to swallow the confession, and completely raised his head towards the raven.

"You don't mean it. It's just the alcohol speaking, right? I mean, you even speak weird!" He asked with pure humour, though the expression on his face is telling him otherwise.

"What do you think a freshly trimmed, long stemmed rose would be doing in my room?" he retorted. The thought of the brunet not taking his confession seriously is starting to grate on his nerves.

Tsunayoshi stood still, speechless. He must've successfully convinced the brunet that none of this is an act.

He's not lying, he meant it.

He can't deny he hated him with his very being every time he was forced against his will to join his crowd of loud, rowdy herbivores. Their noise and their number are truly grating on his nerves. He threatens to bite them to death and they don't take it seriously, which irritates him more. Biting them to death then won't be as much as fun anymore because they were going to end up laughing at him thereafter, despite their broken bones and inability to breathe without a tube because their ribs are poking their lungs. They laugh at him, and It irks, irks, irks him; there are times he felt like he was actually being compared to a child seeking attention.

He approached the still brunet, reached for his cheek, and was about to press his face closer for a kiss when he was pushed back rolling to the floor when Tsunayoshi suddenly landed a powerful punch to his cheek. He was caught off-guard by the act that he bit his cheek during the attack, he spat to the ground to see blood dribble from his mouth.

Tsunayoshi stumbled back, eyes wide. He started waving his hands, his head turning from left to right with speed, a non-verbal word for "No."

"T-t-t-this is w-wrong! Very wrong! No!" He kept flailing his limbs as Hibari turned his head to look at him in the eyes with a passive expression. He can see how hard the brunet tried to turn him down as polite as a punch to the face could.

Hibari narrowed his eyes, not because he was mad, no, the impact of the brunet's fist to his face is so powerful that it made his vision spin, Tsunayoshi's words echoing painfully in his head, plus the amount of alcohol he took not too long ago is still in effect. He felt like curling up.

Tsunayoshi saw his distress, and started to help him sit up, and offered him water to drink and politely went back to his endless strings of dejection. It made him want to curl up for a different reason then.

His chest received a painful squeeze as he saw the brunet clumsily hurry up to leave his household afterwards.

He remained in his position for an hour before going to bed. Maybe the pain would be gone by then.

But it never did.

The next day, he told Tetsu to send the brunet a pink and a white rose. He could've done it personally, though after that night, he can't find it in himself to see his face, and it somehow irritated him for being weak. He made sure Tsunayoshi would receive them, whether he liked it or not.

14th day of March, he received a long stemmed yellow rose on his table. It left him an empty feeling. The following week, he heard that Sasagawa is in a relationship with Tsunayoshi once again, turns out: Sasagwa is feeling insecure about their relationship, in which the brunet cleared out in the end. He felt lost.

Ten years later, nothing changed much between the two of them, with Hibari's habit of sending Tsunayoshi a bright red rose on February the 14th and a pair of white and pink rose the next day annually, that it started to raise suspicion between the brunet's friends and family about who this secret admirer is. In which the brunet always answers with a shrug, saying he don't know either, which he was thankful of. He wouldn't want an angry right-hand man barging into his side of the base a making a commotion for attempting to destroy the brunet's relationship with Sasagawa Kyoko.

As if he would even be a threat at all. He's not, and he will never be. He doesn't need a hyper intuition to know that.

Because every 14th of March he never failed to receive a yellow one.

**Author's Note:**

> The red, white and pink, and yellow roses symbolizes love, forever love, and friendship; respectively.
> 
> First fic I ever wrote, sorry if its crappy. I just need to get this off my case.


End file.
